


and the smoke obscures the moon's gaze

by VioletLopez



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Cigarettes, Death, First Love, M/M, Oops, Regret, idk its v weird, sorry - Freeform, this is really really fucking short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 13:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletLopez/pseuds/VioletLopez
Summary: Bill reflects, with a cigarette and the judgment of the moon





	and the smoke obscures the moon's gaze

**Author's Note:**

> ha you can probably already see the end notes on your screen

It was a Saturday night. Bill stood on the balcony, with a cigarette in one hand and an open book in the other. An empty glass of wine was sitting on the railing, sparkling in the lights that glinted and glimmered beneath him. It was a nice feeling, to be up here, above his regrets and his sorrows, with his cigarettes and words that distracted him from the turmoil of New York. He tilted his head back to look at the moon, hanging over the city and watching like a judge. Sounds of chaos bustled up from the streets, even at this late hour.

Darcy loved the city at night.

Bill frowned and took another drag of the cigarette, the smoke drifting away in the cold November air. He tried to focus on his book, and exceptionally well penned one from Katherine’s hand, but found the words couldn’t hold his interest. A smoky sigh escaped his mouth, and he marked his place in the book, setting it down on the railing. He would read it at a later date, when his head was clear from toxic thoughts of his late best friend.

Blue eyes stared contemplatively across the street, at the house he knew better than his own. Which window had been Darcy’s again?- ah, yes, third floor, second from the left. The glass was dark, like it had been for nearly a year. Bill let the memories wash over him like the lights of New York City; days in summer’s stifling heat, wandering around the hidden corners of Central Park with their fingers interlocked. Nights out on the very balcony where Bill now stood alone, laughing and chain-smoking and entangling themselves. Mornings sneaking home after waking up together, formal dinners full of snuck looks and touches, as wine loosened their inhibitions to the edge of danger. The thrill of secrecy, getting their high off each other and their wonderful, beautiful sin.

Bill stood watching the darkening glass, his mind beginning to flow to darker times. Being told of Darcy’s illness for the first time, that October day, and being so certain it would heal in time. The agonizing wait as the months crawled by. The calendar hitting January with Darcy still confined to his bed. The feeling when Bill’s hope first began to falter. And finally, standing in that room on a dreary March morning, seeing Darcy’s face still and pale and lifeless and the tears that Bill just couldn’t understand, because Darcy had promised not to leave him, said they could be together, find an apartment together someday in the future, that couldn’t be gone, he couldn’t be-

Bill realized with a start that the clock was striking one. The moon’s light seemed to bore into him like an appraising gaze. He sighed, wrenching his gaze from the window across the street and lit another cigarette, trying to smoke away the bitter taste of love.

**Author's Note:**

> ha you can probably still see the beginning notes on your screen


End file.
